


Undoing the Damage

by kaeorin



Series: Loki's Lullabies [16]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Affection, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Fluff, Loki (Marvel) is soft, Mommy Issues, Protective Loki (Marvel), Reader-Insert, Words of Affirmation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:41:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23587075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: Talking to your mother is always a painful experience, but Loki does his best to fix the mess she’s made.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Loki's Lullabies [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678240
Comments: 13
Kudos: 241





	Undoing the Damage

The worst part of all of this was not the fact that you were more or less stuck inside. It was not the way that the threat seemed to lurk invisibly around every corner, impossible to avoid. It wasn’t the worrying about money or about food or about the people in your community. Most of the time, it wasn’t even the uncertainty of knowing when all of this would blow over. The worst part of this was your mother. Though you’d had very little contact with her since you moved to the city, maybe there was something about the global situation that was reminding her of your existence, because you’d fallen into a toxic little tradition of Facetiming with her once a week. 

Every week, you shut yourself in your bedroom so Loki would be less likely to overhear your conversations. More accurately, it was so he’d be less likely to hear the way your mother spoke to you. You’d grown up with it; it was just the norm for you, but on the very rare occasion that outsiders overheard the way she talked to and about you, their reactions invariably showed you that this wasn’t normal. With Loki’s pride, and the way he was kind of just stuck here with you, you weren’t sure you could handle the way he’d react. While you never actually lied to him, you’d let him believe that you just wanted privacy with your mom, and he’d never pressed the issue.

It was just always something with her. She always found all these little meaningless things to pick at you about. Often it was your appearance, or the way your apartment looked, or how you never visited her. Before this whole thing, she never really gave a fuck about seeing you, but now that you straight-up weren’t allowed to travel to see her, _now_ she cared. Your conversations usually followed the same pattern: things would start out just fine. You’d make small talk together for as many as ten minutes before something caught her eye and started to wrench things sideways. She started with seemingly-innocent questions, and then always wound up twisting your answers around to something completely different from what you’d said. Then she’d start to harp on you about her chosen topic of the day. When you lost your temper and told her to knock it off, she’d put on the Hurt Elderly Woman disguise and make you feel bad for snapping at her. Things never went very far beyond that, because one of you pretty much always ended up hanging up on the other. The following week, it would all start again, and she’d act like nothing had even happened. It was an exhausting roller-coaster that always left you a little out-of-whack for a few hours, but at least it was only once a week.

Today, things started out with your mother raving about your older sister’s two kids. You loved your nephews even though you didn’t get to see them very often. They spent a lot of time with your mother while your sister worked. You always kind of liked when she started talking about them, because the happiness they inspired in her could keep her talking for fifteen or twenty minutes before she started to pick at you. At about the twelve-minute mark, however, you moved in just the wrong way and she spotted a double-chin. That led to an excruciating conversation about how, if you didn’t take care of yourself, you were never going to find anybody to love you. Were you finding ways to work out? Were you spending all day eating garbage? You weren’t getting any younger, you know, and she’d be mortified if her youngest daughter had to meet someone _online_. Just when you thought she was starting to run out of steam, she seemed to realize that you’d been in the same room for the last few phone calls, and tried grilling you about where you were staying, if the place was some kind of drug den, if you were living with roommates. She’d known from the start that you’d end up drug-addicted and homeless if you moved to the city, of course, so why didn’t you just move back home and help take care of her in her old age?

Sometimes conversations with her still made your head spin. The way she could berate you at length about one topic and then, without warning, switch to something entirely new and then just keep berating you with the same level of heat...how? How could she do it? And why? She’d never done this to your sister. Your sister was like the golden child, incapable of ever doing anything wrong, while you were like the family’s sole and singular shame. Finally, you’d had enough of her rants and hit the button to hang up on her before she could get to the guilt trip part of the evening. That was probably enough for now. You tossed your phone towards the end of your bed and laid back against your pillow to gaze at the ceiling. With all this distance between the two of you, you’d slowly been able to find ways to convince yourself that she was wrong, or at least convince yourself not to believe everything she said to you, but it was hard. Why did she hate you? And why did she keep talking to you? It was like she needed an outlet for all the hatred that she felt. 

When you were a teenager, you made a promise to yourself not to let her make you cry ever again, but today, you didn’t do much to stop the tears that you felt leaking out of the corners of your eyes. It was okay, you told yourself, because crying just let your brain release chemicals when you were feeling strong emotions. You weren’t crying because of what she’d said to you, you were only crying because your brain was too full. Still, it was hard to keep from hating yourself.

After some time, you heard Loki’s gentle knock on the door. That was new. Quickly, you wiped your face and sat up, doing your best to look like nothing was wrong. When he opened the door to give you a questioning look, you did your best to smile. 

“It’s been quiet for a while,” he said. “I was just checking on you.”

“I’m fine,” you answered quickly. You were under no illusion that you could really fool him right now, but maybe he’d have some pity on you and pretend. “I was just lying down for a bit. Sorry. Were you bored?” Imagine trying to explain to him that speaking to your mother made you upset enough to cry when he couldn’t even speak to his own mother ever again. 

He didn’t say anything for a few moments, only stepped inside and came to join you on the bed. He sat so he was facing you and reached to take your hand. He squeezed it gently, massaging each of your knuckles in turn. It was nice. If your eyes slipped closed, you didn’t fight to open them again. Whatever was going through his mind, his touch was careful and soothing, and when he brushed his fingers along the underside of your wrist, you sighed despite yourself.

“I don’t need you to entertain me,” he finally said in a low voice. “I was worried about you.” He brought your hand to his lips and pressed gentle kisses to each of your fingertips. 

“I’m fine.” As off-balance as you were, your best attempt at a dismissive giggle sounded...flat, somehow. Your face burned. “No need to worry.”

He raised his eyes to meet yours only so he could arch an eyebrow at you in disbelief, but then he looked away again. Somehow, your hand had apparently become very interesting to him. You were just grateful he wasn’t dissecting you with his gaze. “The walls here are thin, and her voice is shrill.”

It took a few moments for you to figure out what he was trying to say, and when you finally did, you pulled your hand back. He’d heard. All these conversations, you were trying to keep them all secretive and hidden, and he’d heard them anyway. All of the venom that your mother spat at you all this time, he’d heard it. You felt sick.

Loki moved closer to you on the bed and reached to take your face in his hands. You wanted to yank yourself away again immediately, but couldn’t find the strength to do it. “She is _wrong_ ,” he said, speaking with a certainty that could not be refuted. “Everything she has said to you, it’s all been wrong. So many times I’ve been tempted to break in and roar her down, but I’ve held back because it was clear you wanted privacy. But she’s _wrong_.”

“I know,” you said miserably. “I’ve known that for a long time.” Of course, knowing something like that didn’t do anything to keep you from feeling like shit. You attempted another smile at him, but the crease between his eyebrows told you just how effective it was. He brushed his thumbs along your cheekbones.

“ _My_ mother would love you,” he said. “You are soft and strong and you look out for other people. She tried so hard to teach me empathy and compassion, but they are already such a fundamental part of who you are. I know that she would try to teach you magic, and she wouldn’t stop until she’d done it. Sometimes I want to try to teach you, for her, but I’m not much of a teacher and I don’t want to disappoint you.” He smiled, then, something soft and tender that made your heart skip a beat. “Your physical beauty is...it’s unmatched by any here or in Asgard, but even if that were not true, your...essence is such that it could make even a foul troll shine like treasure. Every little thing about you seems perfectly crafted to drive me to distraction, and I know I am not alone because I see how others look at you.” His face hardened a bit. “I do not know how she could remain so blind to who you are, but please remember that she is wrong. She should be thrown into a cell for how she speaks to you, or worse. Just say the word, darling, and I’ll find a way to take care of her.”

You laughed despite yourself, and tried to duck your head so you could look away from him. Your cheeks were incredibly warm from the intensity with which he was looking at and speaking to you. Talking to her always made you doubt yourself for a little while, but it was hard not to believe, at least, that _he_ believed what he was saying.

“Let her be,” you mumbled under your breath. “It’s enough punishment for her to have to live with herself. Stay here with me, okay? That’s...all I need.”

He leaned forward to kiss your forehead, still not letting go of your face. Every time he held you like this, you couldn’t help but feel like something precious. It warmed something somewhere inside of you, and you felt yourself smile for real. He rested his chin on the top of your head.

“Shall I go on convincing you that she’s crazy?” You could hear his smile in the way he spoke, feel it in his touch. “I could tell you exactly what you do to me. The things I think about when you’re sleeping beside me. The way you drive every thought from my head when you laugh, or when the sun catches on your face.” 

You laughed to yourself and nestled just a bit closer to him, and then reached to close your fingers around his wrists. Slowly, he was filling up the hollow parts of you with peace. How could you ever thank him for that? “That’s not necessary...” But even you could hear the reluctance in your voice. If he was willing to be so open with you right now, why shouldn’t you take advantage of that? He chuckled, and the vibrations rumbled through his chest.

“Well, to begin with, you are absolutely magical in the kitchen...”


End file.
